


Summit

by Shinsun



Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Pointless fluff, pitifully short
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-09
Updated: 2014-08-09
Packaged: 2018-02-12 10:38:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2106603
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shinsun/pseuds/Shinsun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rather pointless, extremely short AoMomo drabble - based on some lovely art I stumbled across - that I finally found the drive to finish. For old time's sake, Aomine and Momoi hike up into the mountains of their shared childhood, reminiscing on the good old days. The nostalgia trip is over much too quickly when Momoi twists her ankle, and Aomine has no choice but to carry her home.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summit

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: Yeah, I don't even really know where I was going with this one, just wanted to write some nice, platonic AoMomo, and this was sitting in my drafts half-finished for an eternity. On a night with nothing going on, I decided to just finish it up for the heck of it.

“Dai-chan, wait up!” Satsuki called, disentangling the pink strap of her sandal from the twig that had ensnared it, stumbling along the trail and holding her floppy sunhat down with one hand. Daiki paused, glancing over his shoulder and sticking his hands in the pockets of his shorts to wait for her.

“Jeez, usually I can’t get you to move any faster than a snail, but up here you turn into a freaking mountaineer,” Satsuki complained once she’d caught up to him, panting for breath.

“We won’t get to the top in time otherwise,” Daiki pointed out, taking his hands back out of his pockets. Satsuki glanced at them and smiled slightly, despite herself, remembering when he used to get them filthy digging up whatever creatures he could find in the dirt and the muddy pond at the base of the mountain.

“Eh? What’s that look for?” Daiki muttered lazily, locking those hands that were longer and slimmer than the pudgy, rounded ones of his childhood she was envisioning behind his head and continuing walking along the winding dirt path.

“I remember when we were little kids and you would drag me out here,” she replied with a nostalgic grin, “And you’d go chasing after bugs and snakes and other crawly things…” She shuddered dramatically, falling into step beside him.

“I never caught any snakes,” Daiki corrected her, “But I remember putting a frog on your head once. You screamed and ran away crying.” He didn’t say it, but he’d remembered the tears and the way her round rosy eyes had gone wide with terror, and he’d steered them around anything that even remotely looked like a frog after that, never bringing another slimy thing within ten meters of her.

Satsuki huffed a breath, pouting, “It just freaked me out, okay? Frogs are gross. Actually, most of the things you caught were pretty nasty.” She wrinkled her nose in distaste, drawing up memories of squirming, fluttering, hopping things covered in antennae or warts or prickly legs. Daiki had held them up to her, grinning like he’d just found the most amazing treasure, trying to get her to join in his enthusiasm, but she’d felt more like shrieking or running the other way most of the time.

“That’s your opinion,” Daiki shrugged, bending down to pick up a stick from the trail, peeling away at the bark to give his hands something to do, “What about the seventeen-year cicadas, though? You have to admit that was cool, and it only happens a couple times in a lifetime. We were lucky to experience it.”

“No way, those creepy crawlies were all over  everything!  And it was so loud I could barely hear myself think.” She glanced at him, stifling a laugh, “You let them climb all over you; they were even in your hair…” She’d made him pick every one of the noisy but otherwise harmless black insects off of him before they headed back home, but before then he’d walked around with them clinging to his shirt and the top of his dark blue head with their little hooked claws, like he was some kind of strange, walking tree for them to perch on.

“Heh...anyway, it’s good to be back in the woods again; fresh air and all that shit.” Daiki remarked, shooting her that boyish grin she’d once wondered if she would never see again.

.

 

.

Daiki tossed the now naked stick into the brush carelessly, glancing up at the dappled curtain of green leaves passing over them, He didn’t feel the youthful sense of adventure prompting him to flip over rocks and inspect the roots of trees to find centipedes and toads anymore, but the outdoor environment, the pleasant breeze and cries of birds and insects overhead, was invigorating...something he’d tried and failed to seek out in the middle of bustling Tokyo; lounging on top of buildings and watching the sky, to crop out everything but the clouds and the endless arc of blue above him. It wasn’t the same, but close enough at the time. He’d missed the armies of gossiping trees and the rich smell of the earth, though, and after a while he’d admitted he was long overdue for a vacation. Satsuki had accompanied him, like when they were kids, and, like then, she’d brought along that comically large, unflattering sunhat to “protect her complexion”. More than once she’d commented that Daiki was lucky he hadn’t gotten skin cancer from all the time he’d spent outdoors as a child, unprotected from the sun’s rays, and she attributed his darker skin to it, refusing to believe someone could naturally be that tan in Japan. Daiki didn’t particularly care, about shielding himself from getting sunburnt, or about the striking color of his skin. It had simply been that way as long as he could remember, and it hadn’t gotten in the way of him playing basketball or anything else, so he paid it little mind.

A large, twisted log loomed in his path, and he casually jumped over it, his athletic legs easily propelling him to the other side, and turned without hesitation or question to help Satsuki across. And as she clambered over the knotted, slippery wood, clutching his forearm for balance, it hit him, maybe for the first time, that she didn’t have to come with him on his excursions in the mountains. She’d never had to, but she did anyway, even if she made it very clear she didn’t particularly enjoy the great outdoors. 

“Satsuki…” he prompted tentatively, not liking the note of uncertainty in his voice, but being unable to avoid it.

Satsuki planted her feet on the other side of the log and smoothed down her yellow tank top, “Hmm?” she asked, a little short of breath, looking up at him.

An uncomfortable pause stretched the silence between them, and in the end Daiki just scratched the back of his neck and kept walking, “Never mind.”

“Huh? Dai-chan, wait, you can’t just -!” Satsuki protested indignantly, jogging to catch up with his long strides. She was interrupted, however, as her sandal snagged on a root and she face-planted on the ground with a startled yelp. 

Daiki whirled around, catching one glimpse of her sprawled in the dirt before he rushed to her side, “What happened?” he demanded, crouching in front of her.

Satsuki coughed a mouthful of grit, and as she sat up gingerly, Daiki could see her eyes shimmering and her lower lip trembling, signaling she was on the verge of tears.

“Ah, crap... Satsuki, it’s fine,” he tried to soothe her, awkwardly rubbing her back, “You’re fine, you just tripped is all.”

A single, pearly tear rolled down her smudged cheek; her hat had blown off and her pink hair was a little frizzed, and there was a mess of dirt staining the front of her shirt. His eyes traveled to her knees, both of which were scraped, a tiny bead of blood welled up from one of the scratches, but she otherwise seemed alright.

“Are you hurt?” Daiki pressed, the gentle tone of voice feeling unfamiliar in his mouth, but necessary. 

“My ankle…” Satsuki whimpered pitifully, bringing her bare foot out in front of her for him to inspect. 

Delicately probing the indicated area with his callused fingers, Daiki nodded to himself grimly, “It’s swollen; probably twisted. We’ll get some ice on it once we get you home.”

“How am...I going to get home if I can’t walk?” Satsuki sniffled.

Daiki considered the predicament for a moment, hands still lingering on her ankle, and then sighed and turned around, presenting her with his back, “Climb on.”

“But -” 

“Dammit, get on or I’ll carry you like a baby,” Daiki said gruffly. It was an embarrassing enough prospect without her dragging it out and making it harder than it had to be.

After a moment, her arms circled around his neck, and he hooked his own behind her knees, lifting her as he stood up. He could feel her let out her breath against his back, and then she lightly rested her chin on the top of his head. Grumbling to himself under his breath about the indignity of the adult piggyback ride, Daiki turned around and started down the trail in the other direction, remembering to stoop down and hand Satsuki her lost sandal; the woman went gaga over her shoes and all. He could just envision her pout when she saw its state of disrepair. He couldn’t seem to locate the runaway sunhat, however, so he set off without it, silently resolving to buy her a new one when he got the chance. Not because he cared if her soft, flawless skin got reddened and damaged by the sun, of course not...he just knew she would throw a fit when she got over the shock of hurting her ankle and realized it was missing, and he wanted to spare his ears her shrieking. 

“This is actually kind of nice,” Satsuki mumbled after a little while, not moving her head from its place nestled atop Daiki’s hair, “If my ankle’s broken, will you carry me around everywhere, Dai-chan?”

Daiki snorted, “It’s not broken; don’t be so melodramatic.” He heard her huff irritably at his drawling tone, and after a moment of wrestling with himself he softened the blow with a reluctant, “But fine.”

He couldn’t see for himself to be sure, but he swore she smiled the rest of the way home.

- Shinsun


End file.
